Typewriter
by fahtKAHT
Summary: I am mute, but by no means deaf. I can hear- more lies than truths. Namine, is left to take care of her Uncle's students from his private institution. Yet, since her lips are forever sealed, their's reveal inner thoughts, deep secrets. WRITERS BLOCK
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**Pairings will be: Axel&Roxas. Riku&Sora. Set in stone. I will try to fit in Zexion&Demyx. Leon&Cloud. ****Sorry, but NO Namine pairings will be set up, unless you can suggest a plausible one that conforms to my idea of _'ngawwwwww' _Please keep this in mind. _Now on with it._**

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Typewriter

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I am mute, but by no means deaf.

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I am called Namine, I don't know my last name- why would anyone tell a mute person their last name, after all- what use would they have for it. It's not like they could pursue meaningful careers or even simply introduce themselves. Sometimes, I think of how these average people (you, average people) take everything for granted, sure- they were given capable voice boxes, yet what do they use these organs for? Just to complain about everything they _don't _own, everything they _don't _know, everything they _can't _have. Barely anyone actually is thankful for what they _do _own, what they _do _know, what they _can _have- what they _can _say, sing, shout, yell. 

I live by myself, alone- ignored, forgotten, remaining unheard; in my uncles apartment, squashed in the middle of the busy metropolitan streets, buildings and gaudy neon signs- once clean brick walls tainted and choked to an almost-death by obscene amounts of pollution. Yet I am content. Unlike all those out there, whom I can see- whom I can hear from this vantage point of mine, my sanctuary. For a mute girl like I, a simple window, a wooden chair and a well-worn yet still comfortable cushion brings ultimate joy. To the north, I have a perfect view of the traffic congested bridge, suspended over murky waters and during five-fifty-four o'clock, bathed in an orange glow thanks to a setting sun. To the west I see the road that leads further along to a pristine little suburbia. Along the east, of course is downtown, dangerous thrilling streets and the sounds of wailing emergency services guaranteed, and right below my humble little apartment, a small park- somewhat neglected, yet still adored by the few that cross its unkempt green grass during a short trip to the café for a quick bite before rush hour.

Yet, it is during the pitch-black hours the late night, that assure me- I am mute, but by no means deaf. I hear the shouts of frustration, the cries of agony, the silent yet prominent wails- just begging for help, I hear his dreams about her, and her dreams about him. I hear contented snores, faked attempts at sleeping to lay off accusations about insomniac behavior. Tired sighs from people who just crash into their pillows, and the very same sound escaping from those waking up to fulfill a night of keeping the city safe or going against the crime and order system.

I am mute, but by no means deaf, and I hear all the lies and barely any truths.

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Yes, it's me making another pathetic attempt at writing something. Hopefully this turns out better? A year more of, ahem, 'experience' and an advanced english class, surely I can print out a better fiction right? I dunno. You tell me? This chapter doesn't give away much (duh, point much?) so yeah, the next chapter i slike 2.5/3 done? That's not even a proper fraction or number or whatevs. Thanks. Review? Make me feel like someone is actually reading _and_ appreciating this? Sighs. Pathetic attempt to feel loved.

KAHT


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_I can assure you all, I have absolutely not a single concrete idea obtaining to the plot of this, if you dont like anything, blame it on the creative juices that rave like a party-freak through my veins. Hopefully, this story isn't a dead end._

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Typewriter

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An unexpected visit from my uncle today.

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Mute as I am, I can assure myself that I'm not blind, and if I do say so myself, I have to come to the conclusion that my uncle and I do not share any physical (or emotional, to which I say I am thankful for) similarities. I do wonder if we have a single strand of similar DNA in our deoxyribonucleic structure. He simply said, "Some of the kids I take care of at the institute will stop by here and then, I hope you don't mind. They're not all that talkative- ("well, most of them anyway" was muttered ruefully under his breath") so you don't have to worry." With that, he gave me this miniature device, and left. In the few times that I have stepped out of the household- the miracles of modernization allows all my needs to be delivered by a truck, and my disability pension with a little help from dear ol' uncle takes care of the few expenses to be met- I realized that my uncle had just presented me with a mobile phone. If I could emit a sound, it would've probably been a sarcastic chuckle or cough- how in the world was I meant to use a _phone._ I can't _speak._

Imagine my surprise a few minutes later when the phone started seizuring. Violent, sporadic vibrations almost sent it off the table but I caught it in time. Two beeping sounds, and immediately I was semi-jealous of the _thing._ Did my uncle want to tease my short-comings with a blasted piece of technology I couldn't properly utilize? I followed the prompts on the blue-toned screen. _You have a new message, Open? Yes. No. _As soon as I highlighted and 'Okayed' YES, it flashed a series of illiterate characters.

XMNS NIECE: AXLS CMNG OVR

I recall blinking more than twice, before setting to decipher the strange message. What in the _world _could XMNS stand for? To be honest, the only word I could comprehend was NIECE, and I was ninety-nine percent sure that was referring to myself. Therefore XMNS had to be some strange code name or nick-name of some sort for Uncle… come to think of it, I don't really know Uncle's name. All I remember is having only one blood ('blood') relative- and naming them simply as Uncle. My head started to hurt.

When was my last memory… when I was twelve years old, which is only five and something years ago. I was bought here, in a wheelchair (I sent a look to the dilapidated old contraption in the far corner of the room, housing a few dusty magazines) by _Uncle_… I feel a migraine coming on. Anyways, if my oldest memory of my life was when I was about twelve years of age, then, what in the world happened before then… a firm tapping- the distinct and original sound of bony knuckles rapping on hard wood.

"Yo, Axel needing a bit of help here, umm… Miss Namine?" The voice sounded cocky and unsure at the same time, dark undertones and a somewhat raspy edge. One that can only be procured after an intense amount of running and a bit of stinging ache. Axel… AXL.

So the message on the mobile was a warning, and so the illiterate sender must be one of Uncle's students.

I answered the door. "'Sup… oh your cute."

Sensational (in the literal and every sense one could take the term) vermillion hair, ever more sensational veridian hued eyes, tribal markings and a malnourished form. If I could speak the first thing I would've asked, after a customary greeting was, "How often do you eat?" But since I can't speak, I simply bowed and allowed him space to enter.

"My, someone's shy… oh yeah, you, you… uh- Hi! I'm Axel." His bony hands (along with the knocking bony knuckles) shot out at a hair-splitting speed to grasp mine. The calloused palms roughened my sensitive skin as he shook hands with me dizzyingly. He sported a lopsided grin, probably a bit uncomfortable about calling me quiet when he knew I was mute. That, was when I realized the cut he had, just under his jaw- a defined, straight line of red- no doubt from a pocket knife, I recall him slightly but surely limping into the room, trying to mask the injury as absolutely as possible. So that's why he came, because he needed someone to tend to him? I felt a bubbling dislike (one already well-planted) towards my Uncle, was his college nurse out on sick leave; did he want _me _to fill over? As much as I wanted to _say _"no" I simply, couldn't ignore the fact this Axel was still in need of medical attention.

I motioned for him to take a seat; it took a while for him to register my soundless gestures. A goofy (apologetic?) smile and he plopped down onto the sofa. Blowing the dust from the first-aid kit long unused, above the kitchen cupboard, I started applying this-and-that's to his wounds, the amateur that I was, I knew I hadn't done any of it properly.

"Its 'kay love. It's better than anyone else would manage." Was that a bit of bitterness under the cheeky façade? I think so.

After a painfully awkward silence, he started to yap. Judging by his restless fidgeting just moments earlier, I would say that this… Axel, was a talker. "Yeah… so, umm you're prolly' wondering why some spunky, hot stranger stopped by your place aye?"

He winked- probably to the purpose of re-affirming that spunky, hot attitude. I just tilted my head slightly downwards- learning obvious body language was imperative to the social health of a mute- thankfully, he was quick-witted enough to follow my prompt: _please, continue._

"Well, I got into a bit of trouble, we don't need to get into detail about that (these words ran almost indecipherably together), and so the first person that popped into my head was Diz. He's a great dude, honestly- but the blind ol' bastard can be too freakin' cryptic sometimes, y'know?" Before I had a chance to even move a muscle in response, his bullet words continued "yeah, he is. So anyway, I called him… then explained the situation I had on my hands, and then he just says 'I see' in that deep, 'I taught Yoda everything he knows bitch!' tone of his and hung up. I thought he'd left me to get rattled, dropped and ro-ro-rolled, so I kept running, yeah? Like, after sometime, Xe…your Uncle…"

His incessant rant trailed off somewhat, rather than reaching my ears- why would he hide my Uncle's name from me! Did I not have the right to know? I was only his what? His niece! "and so he told me to go here, and he _almost _hung up but I caught him before he did- yeeeyuhhh! - and I said, the whole fu-…fudging lecture he just gave could've saved me heaps more time and brain cells if it stayed where it belonged, in his head! And then I hung up, before he could stop me, and I high tailed my spunky, hot little ass here. And I meet you, and wonder how in hell is someone as cute as you _his_ niece?" He ceased immediately, and caught a couple of (hundred of) breaths. I just nodded, how else could I respond to something as lengthy and nonsensical (and may I say, superbly slang) as what just came out of his mouth, at a rate of a mile a nanosecond? A pang in my chest. Would I be as talkative as him if I could talk? I stood, felt his eyes on my back- his warier than mine- and filled up the kettle, set it to boil and took out the good tea cups.

"Oh, you don't have any cola?" Demanding, I see. Shaking my head, I lifted one cup asking him _do you want tea or water or nothing. _He must have amazing body reading skills, as he deciphered my intentions "Tea's great. Haven't had a good cup in some time" Then again, the way he flashed those teeth, the red-head must be a professional player and therefore a skilled flirter.

It was somewhat starting to fade into the later hours of the afternoon, as I sliced the vegetables for dinner. Axel had been a guest for about half an hour now, and the awkward silence stage had quickly dissipated between us. All that remained was a comfortable peace that was almost a mirror to those old friends shared after some time apart. It was… refreshing. He was standing around, looking at the little trinkets I had managed to collect and place all over the apartment, genuinely curious- like a kid in a candy shop, or a teenager looking at the restricted section of a magazine rack.

"Who-hoaaa. Miss Namine, dare I enquire?" His voice, which I had taken a serious liking to- well over taking Uncle's voice, was filled with a monkey-like admiration, if that description made any sense. "Did your capable hands draw these, so awesome sketches?" I gasped silently. He had ventured off so far, that he had reached my desolate, yet lovely little corner. My window, overlooking everything I one day wished to explore, my wooden chair, the floral cushion- and a bit to the off-side, my second-hand sketching table adorned with little sketches of minor observations tacked to the wall with oily, play-doh like balls. I felt the blood rush to my veins and redden my cheeks- the shade nothing compared to his fiery locks- and nodded- as subtly as possible.

"You are _good_! I know heaps of… abstract (spite? Is that what I heard?) people that can't make lines nearly as well as you can!" I see him zoom in on a particular portrait before my attention was caught by the stinging whistling sound of a ready kettle of steaming liquid- the type perfect to infuse tea in.

"Uh… miss Nam, I gotta' shoot. Sorry, it was great meeting you and all. Thanks for everything, and I swear I'll come back again so we can actually start that cup of gorgeous looking tea! Later!" He was rambling and his last words were muffled by the opening and shutting of my creaky, wooden door.

Now why was he in such a rush? I look at the second cup of tea just prepared in my hand somberly and throw the boiling brown water down the sink.

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_I'm not entirely sure whether I liked this chapter or loathe it absolutely. Either way, it gives me mixed emotions. Thank you to the two reviews I got for the previous chapter, hopefully this will generate more attention? The second chapter hasn't even begun, but I have a fair clue as to where to start it. How it ends, is yet another Cluedo game. Read- review. Be a lover or a hater. Whatevs, yeah? LOL!_

_Kaht_


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